dear h.

      the walls were pierced by bullets, just like the bodies of the people living in this apartment. the shots should have been heard on all floors of the building, but no one even moved their noses to find out what was going on, because the chance of getting lead into the body for the company was too great. people never care about anyone or anything except themselves. that’s right. the most correct position for the current world. the mercenaries ransack all the rooms to find valuables, the fate of which they came for, simultaneously destroying everything around: throwing dishes from the shelves in the kitchen, overturning tables, smashing mirrors and vases, mercilessly piercing thin walls with bullets and laughing at the dead. the laughter was ugly and vile, not even human — bestial, filthy, penetrating to the bones of the last living souls. the remaining family member is dealt with a little late, because of the commotion, but his fate does not save him from a lead bullet from a revolver in the back. right into the rotten heart area. it’s just as rotten as everyone else’s. blood sprays dew on the white walls, flowing down, and spreads across the linoleum in a bright puddle of someone’s aspirations and hopes, tearing off the past like the pages of a morning newspaper that was thrown under the door. the pogrom and mutilation of the apartment exceeded the possible ones, and the damage to the former residents became irreversible. it’s amazing that someone can take a person’s life so easily, quickly and without mental anguish, just shoot at an already lifeless body from aggression and worry only about the fact that there were three children in the murdered family, and only two lay lifeless bodies on the floor in their own blood. outside, the air is thin and fresh, slightly tingling pale face, tickling the lungs. craft bags with products are carried by weak hands, waving them under themselves every couple of steps so that they do not fall. the young man walks quickly, although his legs are tired, rejoicing at the rising afternoon sun. he is glad that he drew the attention of the man next door. he is glad that he is still alive. he does not like to think about death, he is still a child and is unlikely to experience death so soon. he shouldn’t have known so soon. the mercenaries are still circling the apartment. they are closely watched, listened to, guarded, ready at any moment to fight for their lives against them. the neighbor’s boy, who constantly starts conversations with him and personally volunteered to buy groceries, returned from the store, now looks around in fear, looks at his father’s corpse on the threshold of his own house. he looks for help, but no one is around. even if someone had, he wouldn’t have helped. no one will help. through the rolling hysteria, the young man continues to walk, passing his house, or rather, what is left of it, goes to the door from which they are watching. they watch for a long time and intently, warily. the guy frantically rings the doorbell. this attracts the attention of the mercenaries. they flock to their prey like vultures, guarding them to grab and drag them to the next world, taking away the most valuable thing a person has — life. pleading children’s eyes look at the peephole, and a voice breaking into a whine asks to open, knowing for sure that there is someone behind him who will let in and hide from the brutal massacre of a small, innocent in father’s acts, boy. something breaks in the mind of the man outside the door. some principles and principles of life. the imposed, forced rules of this world are crumbling. long-term teachings are being violated. tears roll down the guy’s cheeks, his lips curl in order to restrain a heart-rending, desperate cry, repeating only a quiet “please”. the door is unlocked and the young man’s chest gives out a relieved exhale. is this salvation? very similar, but unlikely. the boy abruptly enters the apartment, out of habit, putting only the purchased products in the refrigerator. imposed housekeeping, it did not even immediately occur to him that the house was not his. misunderstanding and fear clouded the children’s brain without explaining what happened, because this is not some kind of template situation that parents can say “grow up — you’ll understand”, the outcome makes you think and grow up right now. sitting in the living room of someone else’s apartment. — what’s your name? — the man sits down opposite the guy at a tiny table with a square suitcase on it. the milk that was bought is poured into a glass, and the person living in this apartment removes the red bangs back. — gaon… but the real one is jiseok, — the young man belatedly replies. his eyes are staring at one point and glistening with tears. plump lips reveal teeth again, the desire to scream and bang your head against the wall is immediately visible. — i’m sorry about what happened to your family… — if they hadn’t killed them, i would have done it one day, — moisture overcomes reddened cheeks again, rivulets shimmer in the sun. — then why are you crying? — no matter how ugly they were, i loved them. i hated them, but i loved them, — jiseok covers his face with his hands, wiping tears with a knitted baggy sweater. he’s sobbing. — they were all i had.       the quiet crying doesn’t stop. a man knows that the pain of loss will go away with time. nothing is cured at the snap of your fingers. someone else’s sadness touches a dry heart, it stings and squeezes the chest. it is unusual and unpleasant — what’s your name? — kwak exhales and wipes away the remaining tears. his eyes are full of pain, and the boy needs to distract himself so as not to drown in the ocean of sorrow, so that negative feelings do not cover him with a wave, as when the moon is full. — gunil. — it’s a beautiful name. and you are too. goo regretted that at that moment he decided to take a sip from the glass, because the guy’s words knocked him out of his rut, forcing him to spit the drink back into the mug in surprise. the young man smiled. the moist eyes with an open childish smile looked too forced. — what’s in this bag? — jiseok asks and, not waiting for an answer, reaches to open it. he switched quickly. for a victim of severe trauma just now, this is probably normal. gunil does not have time to pacify playful hands and warn curious eyes from further picture of the contests of the bag. a variety of weapons, secured with leather straps, almost fall out on the table. the man hurries to close everything and put it away, but other people’s hands do not allow him to do this. — what are you doing? — a slight squint in bright eyes and a strange grin. gunil crumples, letting the air out of his lungs. — the janitor. — like a killer? once again, this kid is tearing the ground out from under his feet. the young man is straightforward. — yes. — cool, — jiseok smiles. very bright and sincere. as if he’s really interested in what gunil is doing and is really “cool”. — how much do your services cost? — a lot. i’m not going to take on those who killed your family anyway. — why? —big risks, — gunil’s tone sounded harsh and serious. — don’t let the thirst for revenge consume you. jiseok chuckles, becoming upset. he tries to prove to himself that this is not a thirst for revenge, but all because of a sense of justice.

***

      gunil does not have time to understand the flashing thoughts in his head. they are too fast, because it is necessary to act immediately, but he is used to living a measured life, making quick decisions only in emergency situations on assignments. it’s not a task right now, but he doesn’t have time to think for a long time. a small hand grabs his arm, squeezes, wants to pull him closer. kwak wants to feel protected. he wants to snuggle up to goo, to feel his strong arms, which can protect him from all adversity only with hugs. gaon is lying on an old mattress, covered with a blanket somehow, but even this blanket laid on him somehow by gunil is enough for him. it is enough to take the man’s hand and murmur softly: “thank you”. the man is rushing around. completely not knowing what to say or how to react. he wants to run away and hide from intimacy with this kid. fortunately, the guy lets go of his hand and, hugging the pillow, closes his eyes, before looking into man’s, finding nothing there. and he wanted to find understanding, sympathy, support, anything! but not the lost, terrified of his actions look. gunil does not sleep all night. no, he never sleeps, he is always on the alert and dozes with half an eye, so that suddenly something happens. he is always ready to fight. but now even that doesn’t work out. he’s haunted by the thought that he’s making a big mistake by keeping the guy. the gun is pointed at jiseok’s head. he’s sleeping. he doesn’t know that someone wants to kill him right now. he is breathing evenly and calmly, and black strands have fallen over his eyes. hand is shaking. it’s never been shaking at the moment when gunil has to pull the trigger. never. something has changed. it will change. gaon will only get in his way. gunil does not need the responsibility for another life. for the life of a child. he had to kill him — it would be better that way. it would be better for him. goo only thinks about his life. and he’s doing the right thing. he does not think that he will end the young man’s path that has just begun. he doesn’t think he’s doing any better than those mercenaries. he doesn’t need to think, he just needs to pull the trigger. shoot and finish this performance with the virtue of goo gunil. he doesn’t have to help this child. hand is shaking. teeth clenched in indecision. gunil removes the weapon from guy’s head, cursing. he gave up, succumbing to a loud voice in my head that screamed to stop. the man does not understand why he did not decide. he created problems for himself by leaving jiseok’s life. it’s very merciful, they’ll definitely let him into heaven for this. gunil does not find a place for himself, because his chest is torn by formless feelings for someone. so wrong in his situation. he had been trying to destroy his feelings for many years, and it seemed to have been successful before jiseok showed up on his doorstep in tears. goo has known his name for less than a day, but already feels a little more for him than for a simple neighbor. it’s weird and wrong. he’ll kick him out in all four directions in the morning.

***

      — did you get enough sleep? — goo asks, noticing a low silhouette in the doorway. in response, the guy nods positively. — have breakfast and leave. — where to? — jiseok blinks, trying to figure out what they want from him. — wherever you want, — he goes into another room. he sits down to clean his weapon. jiseok keeps up with gunil, observing his activities. like a man, he polishes each barrel quickly but carefully with a rag, ending at the handle. — teach me how to be a killer. i want to kill like you! — gaon exclaims admiringly, resting his hands on the table. — no, — he didn’t even look up. — please! if you don’t want to kill those people, then i will. goo frowns and briskly puts a revolver and a box of cartridges in front of the young man. — if you want to kill, go shoot, i don’t teach that, — he gets furious, because kwak just talks about killing. this is terrible, and a child should not want to kill, even if there is something for it. — after the first case, life will not be the same. everything is changing and will not return to the old rhythm. i’m not going to take responsibility for this. here is a parting gift, — he points to the previously provided weapon. — go away. — well, — he shook his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes. jiseok loads all the bullets into the drum, closing it with a sharp movement of his hand. fast and smooth, even graceful, it’s not like he’s holding a gun for the first time. he shoots through an open window at a neighboring house. without a silencer, the shots are very loud. and only now gaon’s attention is clinging to a potted plant that he almost dropped while waving his arms. goo adequately restrains the impulses of strong aggression, but is still unhappy with the guy’s antics when they go to look for a hotel to stay in. gunil handed the same plant to kwak, telling him to carry it carefully, to protect it from a gust of wind. the man walks fast, and gaon is not only weak, but also low, which is why he follows the elder, breaking into a run. — don’t do that anymore, do you understand me? — goo stops, and gaon goes on by inertia, but returns. he was out of breath. — okay, — the guy takes the flower more conveniently, continuing the man’s path.

***

      jiseok learns fast. it is not clear how well this is, because he learns things that are not quite necessary for the child. but with burning eyes, he asks a lot of questions, is interested in every little thing. absorbs information better than any sponge used to wash windows. they train all the time, and when they don’t, kwak cleans the room, cooks food and sometimes takes care of a flower. gunil could not explain his attentiveness to someone else’s desire to do household chores. after all, he himself proposed once and fulfills his duties, which he himself has set out. the man loved to watch. in general, his work consists of observation, he must always be attentive. he doesn’t have to be that attentive right now, but he keeps going. he watches other people’s graceful movements: how jiseok does aerobics instead of push-ups or running, his movements are smoother and clearer than the presenter on tv. how painfully he squats on the floor, sitting on the windowsill, rubs the cloudy window, elegantly wipes the pistols with an old rag, let alone how he elegantly reloads the weapon and with what face he shoots fake bullets at the victims. he’s good at shooting with a rifle. he gets lost at short range, so goo doesn’t even think about teaching him hand-to-hand combat anytime soon. jiseok also smokes a lot, not even bothering to hide it. gunil can tolerate the smell of cheap tobacco, but he does not tolerate when a person next to him ruins his health in such an idiotic way. the man knows that gaon has been smoking for a long time, but when he asked him to quit, he calmly threw out the window the cigarette he had just started and mumbled something in his own manner, after which he pointedly threw a pack of cigarettes in the same place. a strange child. unpredictable, straightforward and open. — i think i’ve fallen in love with you, gunil. goo regrets for the second time that he drank in front of other people’s words, because he choked on milk again, spitting it back out. the guy’s full of sincerity, such a naive confession again splits something in gunil’s heart. it does not split, but shamelessly destroys, kills. he’s suffocating. jiseok sprawled on the double bed, staring at the ceiling. — what makes you think it’s love? — well, i’m very warm when i’m with you, — he sighs. — and my chest flutters when i think about you. gunil bites his lips and frowns. he doesn’t have a template in his head for this situation. children have never confessed to him that they are in love. gaon may be able to trick a store clerk that he is eighteen to buy cigarettes, but goo clearly sees a childish character, mindset, body. — and the stomach, — kwak puts his palm on the torso, but then leaves only his fingers, which lightly touched his own skin, tickled. — bursting with… butterflies? i would compare it to a fragmentation grenade. goo is not breathing, waiting for the guy to finish his reasoning and come to a conclusion in the current situation. but both are silent, and in this silence you can only hear the guys' breathing in unison. — i’m late, and i don’t like it so much at work. the man puts on the equipment hanging on the chair, fastening the straps on his back, looking at the young man’s gaze from the periphery. gunil is pouring down. everything inside him collapses terribly quickly, right down to the correctness of his feelings. jiseok is a child who has not seen anything yet, knows nothing. they didn’t explain to him that it was wrong. he is lost in sadness and a desire for revenge, and it is unlikely that his falling in love with an adult man is a healthy phenomenon. gaon just wants to feel safe, wants warmth and care, and clings to any convenient chance. he wants to know that he is not completely alone. gunil is uneasy. he gets smeared on the wall in the hallway. he tried to keep calm in front of the young man, but now they are separated by a door, and goo wants to shout how far things have gone. gunil should have killed him the first night.

***

      the task went terribly. awful. it couldn’t be worse. and gunil himself is to blame for everything, because he couldn’t get together to do everything cleanly, instead he made an extra fuss, so he also got a bullet in the chest. and it was necessary for jiseok to start this conversation before a difficult task. everything has only become more complicated, starting from the perception of his feelings, ending with work, which, due to his injury, he will now be unable to do for some time. shit. the bathroom is stained with blood. there are scarlet prints on the tiled wall. gunil hated getting wounds. it hurts and you have to deal with them yourself, and this is inconvenient in most cases. — gunil? — it’s coming from behind the door. — are you okay? i saw the blood on you… can i help? — no, it’s okay, — he sighs heavily and it echoes around the room. the wound looked very bad and needed to be sewn up, but his hands were trembling treacherously and would not obey. it’s like koo is dealing with his own injuries for the first time. he could really use some help. very much. but gonil does not want to bind the young man even more to himself. this will not affect both of them in the best way in the future. it’s obvious. — jiseok, — he doesn’t know why he calls him through the door. there are black spots in his eyes from pain and blood loss, and his head is spinning, forcing him to lean against the sink. — yes? a sharp exhalation gives pain to the wounded chest. gunil really doesn’t want to involve this child more than it should be, but he can’t do it on his own. he’ll just bleed out on the cold tile. it’s getting more painful to breathe. — the door is not locked. for gunil, everything seems to be in slow motion. gaon is unreasonably panicking, examining the bullet wound with tears in his eyes. — sit on the side of the tub, — the boy’s voice is shaking and it seems that his hands are shaking even more. kwak suppresses a wild and cold fear that turns the insides. but, surprisingly, when he picked up a needle with a simple black thread, he was immediately filled with imaginary confidence. the certainty that he couldn’t let gunil bleed out and die. he needs him, so he needs to renounce worry and just help. do what is necessary now. the elder trusted him, and kwak just can’t screw up. his legs give way and a chilling cold covers them, and his wrists tingle with tension, but he tries his best to ignore the panic that is already projected onto his body. — talk to me. don’t close your eyes — shiny tears accumulate in the children’s eyes, they blur the view and jiseok wipes them with the sleeve of a bright yellow cardigan, finally tucking them up for convenience. — i won’t die from a simple bullet, don’t be afraid, jiseok, — the man assures, meeting his gaze. gonil smiles gently to support, to pretend that everything is going as it should, and when the thinnest needle pierces the skin, he clenches his teeth and inhales air through them, but does not stop smiling. gaon is nervous. — it’s fine, go on. thread the resulting knot so that it does not untie — the nails dig into own palms. — tighten it up. kwak nods, biting his lower lip, concentrating on the task at hand. he manages to abstract, and the last stitch comes out just fine. as it should be. the young man’s hands return to their usual tremor. his fingers are stained with someone else’s blood and he hurries to wash it off, bending over the washbasin, hearing its hopeless crackling from old age. — thanks. it’s still a good thing he didn’t kill him that night. jiseok nods and swallows the viscous saliva, holding back a new rush of tears. he himself does not fully understand why he wants to come together for a silent cry, huddled in the corner of the bathroom, leaning his back against the cold and wet wall. — i’m fine, — goo still tries to calm him down. — now, of course, i won’t be able to fulfill my orders well, but i won’t die, of course. gaon clings to the sink with his fingers and exhales. he examines his reflection in the mirror, on which there are bloody fingerprints of someone else’s fingers. another exhale. he feels like he’s suffocating. but he has nothing to worry about anymore. at least for now. — i know that you want to get rid of me… — moisture covers the young brown eyes by itself. — but i don’t want to lose you. something was forever lost in gunil’s head after these words. something important. what he was taught for many years, trained like a dog. there is pressure in his chest, and it is not from the wound he received and sewn up somehow. — be careful from now on… — i don’t want to lose you either. jiseok looks right into someone else’s eyes. just as lost as his own. they are as sincere as if they were childish. gunil does not know how to lie, he would rather keep silent than tell the terrible truth, not wanting to just throw lies around. gaon is crying again. he was always too emotional for a guy, but goo hadn’t judged him yet for a single tear or bright smile. that’s why it was good with him. it was as if the young man had acquired a house that he had never had and did not want to lose it by clinging to it with all his might. — don’t lie. i mean nothing to you. i’m sure you don’t know why you saved me back then! gunil blinked rapidly, his fingers touching the wound on his chest.       — i’m still alive only because of you. if you don’t figure out for yourself why i’m still with you, then it’s going to be hard for us. it’s going to be hard for me, — he got lost. — but i will still love you blindly, realizing that you are looking for an opportunity to kill me or just get rid of me. — jiseok, — gunil touches his leg — where he could reach for contact. — i haven’t wanted to get rid of you for a long time. —then… then why… — the tone broke and turned into tearful crying. his own reflection was distorted under the transparent veil, but he tried to control himself. he doesn’t understand anything. completely. both of them. — why do i fucking love you, gunil? and again he jumps off the subject. he just wants to finally understand while he still has the chance. while he’s thinking about it. the man is silent. he doesn’t know. he knows nothing, and this child demands answers to the most difficult questions in the world immediately and in detail. — i don’t know. gaon sobs, covering his face with his hands so as not to see either his reflection or someone else’s face. — i know, — the young man sighs and removes his foot from goo’s hand, walking away, squinting piteously.

***

      jiseok smiles happily, glancing at gunil. he was able to hit the exact heart of the target the first time. and once a man was sure that short distances were not for him. — well done, — goo makes two shots — one above the chest, in the area of the collarbones, and the other in the stomach, which knocks the victim to the ground. — let’s go. gunil still doesn’t understand how gaon was allowed to work with him. he thought the idea of coming to the leader and tearfully asking for anything was a failure, but the pretty face of the guy works wonders. and he has a lot of eloquence, it seems that this skill has helped him out more than once. on the contrary, goo silently agrees and, like an obedient dog, nods his head at all the words of the owner. kwak was his opposite. he is very loud and emotional, which is strange knowing the rules in his family, which left him. but it’s better than being bullied child who is afraid to say a word. and not just the word. the clink of glasses is heard, and the permanent hum of other people’s unintelligible voices is in my ears. gunil won’t remember the last time he was in a restaurant. yes, most likely he wasn’t even there. these places are not for him. crowded and pretentious. everything that can and cannot be upholstered in leather or red, ornate velvet, which was unpleasant to the touch. — you did a good job, — gunil, as if by force, raises a tall glass of champagne, clinking glasses with the guy. — you killed him anyway, — jiseok boringly hits back with a container of alcohol. — if your bullets weren’t props, you’d be able to handle him without me. the young man smiles shyly. he carefully takes the first sip of the drink and winces, immediately wiping his lips. the man does not have time to come to his senses, as the younger drains the glass too quickly and smiles contentedly, looking around, meeting the eyes of the waiter, who brought a bottle of champagne in a bucket with ice. gaon does not carefully, but even outrageously pours alcohol into glasses, leaving the drops that did not get into the tablecloth to soak on the table. — well, since the job was done well, — gaon says sweetly, bowing his head, looking directly into the eyes opposite. — then why not kiss? like in the movies? — no. — yes. jiseok gets up from his seat and slowly, like a predator, gets close to gunil. he leans on the table and breathes languidly on his cheek. his eyes are already glistening under the veil of alcohol rapidly hitting his head. goo already regrets letting him drink. goosebumps ran down my back, along with cold sweat remaining on the small of back. — sit back down, — he pushes the guy away from him. he was very close. — everyone is looking at us. — don’t you believe me when i tell you that i love you? he believes, of course gunil believes. there was absolutely no doubt about this boy’s words. even if he had said that gunil could leave his job and be a worthy member of society without any problems, he would have believed without a doubt. — stop it, let’s change the subject, — he’s not ready for this. — okay, i’m sorry, — gaon shakes his head, searching inside for any other question of his own. — how old were you when you first completed the order? — nineteen. — i beat you! — he grins, reaches for the glass again, drinking everything he poured before. jiseok giggles loudly, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter. It seems that he had never drunk before. — that’s enough for you, — goo tries to remove the green bottle from an obviously expensive assortment, but deft hands intercept, and gaon, turning away, destroys the champagne from a botttleneck. kwak wipes his lips again out of habit and smiles even drunkier than before. goo sighs. resigned. let the child rest. even if in this way. he needs to relax. — have i already told you that you’re handsome? — jiseok suddenly drops the words with a slurred tongue, when the man almost carries him to the hotel in his arms. — yeah. gunil really had to pick up the guy on the stairs. for convenience. jisok wraps his arms around his strong neck, afraid of falling down the steps, but this is really not required, gonil seems to be carrying his bag, and not a guy, even a young one. the door is unlocked, and the drunk body is carefully placed on the bed. the mattress bends painfully. springs creak in the silence of the room. — i love you, gunil. goo bites his lips. the guy does not detach himself from his neck and persistently pulls at himself. he is not going to succumb to provocations.       — don’t go away. it’s dark, but the older one is sure that the guy’s eyes are filled with moisture. he’s already overly emotional, but when alcohol is in the blood, everything multiplies. — i’m not leaving. — do you have any feelings for me? gunil is silent. he leans against the bed, hovering over the guy as he still holds him by the neck. — i don’t know. jiseok sniffs and turns his head away. it’s very quiet. gunil is even afraid to breathe. a street lamp shines through the window and wet streaks appear on other people’s cheeks in its light. the man, sacrificing balance and control over the situation, wipes a tear from gaon’s eyes with his thumb. - it hurts when you cry because of me. kwak turns his head back to him, but his gaze is just below the man’s eyes. jiseok leans forward and awkwardly touches gunil’s lips. the man is scared trying to get away from this, but the guy’s grip is surprisingly firm. the young man covers gunil’s lips once more, allowing the contact to last a little longer than the first time. — jiseok. the named one smiles contentedly and throws his head back on the pillow, revealing his neck, which always had a black choker on it, which he always wanted to take off. gunil died somewhere inside himself. for the second time in life, it seems. he died from the realization that this child had succeeded after all. managed to get into his head and make him think about nothing but him. to see nothing but him. put a light in his life, and he will either turn it off himself, or a light bulb will burst from overexertion, crippling a trusting heart with fragments. — i’ve come to terms with the fact that you don’t feel anything for me, — jiseok finally lets go of the man’s neck, spreading his arms across the bed. — but please don’t leave me. gunil was ready to dispute the statement that he felt nothing. he didn’t know what he felt for him, but it was clearly something pleasant and causing a gentle warmth in his chest. it’s something that makes you fear for someone else’s life. something that made goo want to live. he wanted to escape from the killer’s routine, wanted to take jiseok with him and go as far as possible so that he would no longer hear about orders and not see death by his own hand. gunil doesn’t understand both himself and jiseok. especially jisok, who became more brazen and pulled into a sticky kiss with his tongue. he slowly and unhurriedly moved over gunil’s lips, making his way to the gum, and then, without noticing any resistance at all, completely captured goo’s mouth. there is a taste of recently drunk champagne on gaon’s lips, and gonil does not understand what drives him more: from jisok himself or from the alcohol on his tongue. — gunil, — comes a heavy sigh from kwak in the room. the man, suppressing a tremor in his hands, looks at the delicate features of the young face and stops at the plump lips. He runs his thumb over his lower lip, getting a hoarse exhale in response. — go to sleep, — goo whispers, gently brushing the black bangs off the man’s forehead. — you’re not going to leave me alone, are you? — of course i won’t leave you.

***

      this time everything was fast and as needed. no fuss and unnecessary casualties and especially wounds. five precise shots directly into the chest forced the targets to fall in short-term agony, choking on their own blood, making the last sounds of pleading, exhausted from blood loss. the legs of the wooden stools were stained with scarlet streaks, further and further saturated with fresh blood. the light bars seemed to absorb the scarlet thread of life like vampires. it’s a sickening picture. nobody has strength to see it every time. before anyone knew it, the killer had disappeared. leaving the elite tea shop, he merged with the crowd on the avenues of the big city, and after that he ended up in one of the hotels. quiet and fast. the perfect job. although gunil was sure that there would be problems even on the spot. jiseok hasn’t woken up yet. yesterday there were two late orders, so the young man is sleeping it off, but lunch time has long passed. he will wake up soon. and gunil continues to think in the silence of the kitchen. under the light, residual chirping of birds from the morning and the periodic howling of cars. with a moistened cloth, he carefully wipes each leaf on the flower in a dusty clay pot, no one wipes it. the rustle of the leaves calms and soothes. but still, goo had been thinking about gaon’s actions that evening for days. more precisely, what they caused and what response they found in the man’s soul. what happened to him from a simple kiss of a drunken child. it would be nothing from anyone else, but this is jiseok. gunil couldn’t explain anything even to himself. explain why saved him in front of your door, why agreed to teach him, why unceremoniously came and got even with the killers of the kwak family this morning. he only knows that this will cause problems that will be far from easy to deal with. if at all he is given the opportunity to do something about it. they will give the opportunity to fight for life. for a life that has become more beautiful and better lately. it made sense. — do you love your flower? — suddenly there is a voice behind gunil. jiseok sat down in a chair in the corner of the room and watched him wipe the leaves with a damp cloth. he picked up the habit of watching. mindfulness can allow people to learn even more than a person would say in words. goo heard his footsteps, so he wasn’t caught off guard. — he’s my friend, — the man smiles, answering. a rare occurrence. — does not ask questions, does not complain, accepts what is given. he’s like me — rootless, — he grins, baring his teeth. — if you love, why don’t you plant it in the park? to put down roots, — the hoarse tone from a recent dream gets into my head and turns on repeat like a pray. gunil looks gloomy, thinking. — i don’t want to lose someone who is always with me, — he replies, already anticipating the guy’s words. — well, now I’m always with you. gunil has doubts. he does not understand gaon’s purpose, motivation, and end point. gunil does not want to accept his affection for someone. especially to a flighty teenager. — i’ve dealt with those who killed your family, — the elder begins cheerlessly, pushing the flower a little closer to the middle of the table. — really? — kwak smiles and gets up from his seat. he hugs gunil from behind, who was sitting on a stool. — cool. it became impossible to breathe again. what is this kid doing? he feels gaon burying his nose in his red hair and ruffling it in addition. the young man breathes loudly, clasping his hands tighter. he often expresses emotions with intimacy. — you’re welcome, — gunil croaked, fidgeting. he expected a different reaction, but it’s even easier this way. it’s getting dark. the picturesque sunset passed the guys' gaze, remaining as a given in their heads. before the darkness there was a sunset, and after the darkness there will definitely be morning. a constancy that no one breaks. the world is cyclical. it was comforting and gave hope. hope for a bright tomorrow. gunil never hoped. there was simply no need, but since this morning he had been praying to fate, to god, to anyone, so that no one would find out that he had killed his boss’s partners. otherwise, he himself will be quickly and ruthlessly deprived of his life. and this cannot be allowed to happen. it’s definitely not possible now. gunil’s not afraid for myself anymore, but for jiseok. for this arrogant child who persuaded him to go to bed with him. such a… such a jiseok. — hey, look at me, — kwak covers himself and the man with a blanket, lying sideways. goo turns his head around. — good night, — the young man kisses his lips, again allowing him to feel pleasant goosebumps on his body. if gunil had answered anything now, his voice would have definitely broken. therefore, there was a slight nod to the wish. he licked his lips, feeling the sliding taste of strawberries. jiseok loved the bright packaging of lipsticks. the boy hugs gunil like a pillow, placing his head on his chest. gunil will not remember when he had the opportunity to sleep on a bed. it was as if all his life he had been waiting for something in the night, half asleep on a chair. the bed is soft and pleasant. gunil is getting sleepy. into a full-fledged sleep. there is a previously imperceptible comfort and security next to jiseok. his quiet snuffling at his side calms him down, assures him that everything will continue to be fine, that it will only get better and worse. next to jiseok, gunil will no longer be lonely, sad, or exhausted. goo puts his arm around gaon’s waist, crumpling his white t-shirt on his side. it’s warm. he’s hot. his skin burns gunil’s fingers even through the fabric. it’s unbearable. the young man’s breathing is rhythmic and does not stray. maybe he’s already asleep. the man releases the air from his chest and inhales deeply. the guy smells of vanilla shampoo, he probably bought it somewhere in the women’s department at the supermarket.       gunil wants to sleep. the eyelids close by themselves. nothing bad would happen if he slept like a normal person for one night, right? there is no plaster ceiling in front of eyes now. consciousness is consumed by a black, immeasurable void. deep and gloomy, but it makes to breathe evenly, makes to drop all thoughts. my head is spinning, turning my half-asleep brain in a circle. gonil sometimes forgets to breathe, which is why everything stops. gunil wants to jump out of bed and, as usual, sit in an old armchair and, although half-eyed, but sleep. it doesn’t work that way. it’s unusual. it feels wrong. but goo’s eyes don’t open. he hopes for a miracle that he will be able to sleep like this. he focuses his hearing on jiseok’s breathing, on how his chest is moving. it’s calming. he’s nearby.

***

there was not enough air, as if the lungs had stopped working. it’s like being strangled. goo jumps up, opening his eyes and they are mercilessly illuminated by the bright light from the window, on which only transparent tulle hung. — good morning, — jiseok, sitting on the bed, looks over his shoulder at the man. smiling. — did you get enough sleep? — i didn’t sleep. —of course, — he chuckles. his charcoal hair sticks out in different directions, some strands are too slick, some are too fluffy. the light reflects bright white highlights on them, making them shiny. when he wakes up, he looks rumpled, but no less fascinating. gunil looks around, he probably doesn’t look any better. — i’m going to the store, — gaon is already searching for his jacket all over the room. as usual, he left it somewhere and messed around. the open shoulders of the t-shirt are covered by his favorite yellow cardigan, which looks like something from a women’s wardrobe. it’s too bright. and soft. the knitted sweater suited him very well and had an invisible value behind it. the boy hurries to hide in the passage, but gunil calls out to him. — do you remember the identification knock on the door? —yes, — he thought. — three short ones, — knocks on the wooden jamb, demonstrating. — two quick ones and one more. goo nods in satisfaction and when jiseok disappears from sight again, he lies back on the bed. the pillow is pushed under the head, rustling in the ears. and yet, nothing happened because of a simple dream. it was good. gunil really got enough sleep for the first time in many years. it’s a great feeling. the body was filled with new forces, and the brain with hopes and faith. such naive thoughts, but they warmed the soul, dispersed the blood inside faster. the red-hot bones burned the muscles enveloping them and the hot ribs dug into the lungs. naive dreams and daring ideas flashed before eyes. what if he runs away. what if he gives up everything that gunil has been building for years. what if he takes jiseok with him and go as far away as possible. wherever they look. to no longer be afraid for yourself and the guy. to really feel free. to live normally. the sun is hot, leaving kisses on the face from the bright rays. there is no wind, but a quick step still removes the bangs from his forehead. there are not many people, but everyone is scurrying back and forth, hurrying about their business, completely ignoring the boy in colorful robes who smiles walking along the avenue. he smiles at the good weather, gray people in business suits, passing cars. and he is glad that there are reasons to smile. gunil’s getting sleepy again, but jiseok will be back soon. he will come, arrange the groceries, pour milk into a glass and sit expectantly. he will burn a deep hole in goo with his youthful, hopeful and naive eyes. so beautiful that it takes breath away. he will ask questions, provoke casual conversations. gunil is silent and does not speak well, but today there is this impulse. there is something to discuss. and after that, gaon will molest with kisses again, he will touch, he will languidly breathe into the man’s ear. and maybe… a knock. two knocks on the front door. one last knock echoed in his skull. holy shit. the door creaks open slowly. it’s all a blur. everything is automatic. murder after murder. now the spilled blood seems to be an unjustified occupation. it’s absolutely disgusting, but there’s no way out. it won’t work any other way, no matter how hard you try. where is jiseok. they didn’t even think to look at the ceiling, not learning at all from the mistakes of the first ones who entered, sent as if for food. gunil deals with all available quickly. but there is nothing good in this, because they will simply use something more serious than a bunch of cannon fodder without a name and rank. the mercenaries are either assholes, or they’re not really interested in this job. well, of course. eliminating the best killer in the state is such a task. gunil wouldn’t be happy about that either. smoke grenades play into his hands. he manages to get closer. where the fuck is jiseok. rage takes over. boiling anger, hatred, and fear allow you to be one step ahead. the brain and body are working at the limit of their capabilities. by exposing one of the military as a human shield, it is possible to take the boy out of the cunning clutches. they don’t play by the rules. the advantage is still on their side. goo shoots the fire alarm, and the comrades-in-arms shoot their own. the turmoil will give time. gunil’s heart is pounding like crazy, drowning out my thoughts. the man hears nothing but someone else’s breathing nearby. he’s here again. gunil feels gaon’s fear perfectly well, because he is just as scared. to cold sweat, to trembling legs, to clenched teeth. very scary. kwak is not crying, but his eyes are darting around the room. he is breathing heavily and clearly hopes that this is just a dream, a simple nightmare. but unfortunately not.       the young man has a fire axe in his hands, which the man in puffs asked to take. they can’t escape through the window, because there are snipers everywhere. it was obvious and it also became clearly clear when gunil took his flower from the window to protect it. it remains to protect jiseok. spit on everything. if he doesn’t save himself, then at least he will save gaon. — everything will be fine, don’t be afraid, — goo tries to calm the guy down. he would have calmed himself down first. — give it here, — he takes the axe from the strong grip of shaking hands, looking around. there is no other option. there’s no other way to escape. they are being watched from all possible sides. a powerful blow falls on the plasterboard wall. an axe is not very good for such purposes. he is blunt and crumbles the wall only in small sections, but brute force and assertiveness allows him to smash the fragile material into nothing. kwak screams hoarsely and tries to hide from all this by covering himself with his hands. ventilation shaft. it’s very dirty and narrow. fuck. he wraps a flower in his coat, in which he always completed tasks, in which he always merged with the crowd. it is soaked with peoples' blood and pain, but now it is the only thing that will save the plant even a little bit. gunil calls the young man to him and he crawls on the floor, so as not to glow in the window, rushes at the man, hugging him tightly, not wanting to let go at all. goo picks him up in his arms and drags him towards the only way to escape. — get in, let’s go downstairs… — i’m not going anywhere without you! — the guy resists and protests. he knows that he will lose gunil if he leaves, that he will not see him again. — listen, jiseok. — no! — he’s trying to get away, even though he’s already crawled through the ventilation with his feet. — listen to me. — no, i’m not going! — tears are welling up in his eyes. he’s really not ready to say goodbye to gunil so soon. he wasn’t ready. — listen, i can do it alone, trust me. as soon as it’s over, we’ll pack up and leave right away. Just the two of us, you and me, i promise. — no! you’re just saying that to calm me down. i don’t want to lose you! — there’s no way you’re going to lose me. you gave me a reason to live, i want to be happy with you. sleep in a bed, have roots! you won’t be alone now, and neither will i. i won’t leave you, jiseok, — gunil himself is one step away from hysteria. he hasn’t been overwhelmed with so many feelings in too long, and it’s hard to keep it down. he didn’t have time to say so much, because he realized everything too late. the words are spinning randomly in my head. there are so many things that he has to tell him, but gunil is physically unable to. it hurts and offends. he looks into the sparkling eyes of hope. he wants to disappear into them, evaporate, drown himself. he wants it all to end. — please leave, quickly. calm down, come on. i’ll find you at the cafe where my boss runs, remember? — gunil touches jiseok’s cheek, wet with tears, ruffles her hair. it hurts him to let him go, but it’s necessary. gaon must survive. — i love you, jiseok. — i love you too, gunil, — he sobs, putting his hand on top of gunil’s. kwak slowly disappears into the ventilation shaft. small palms let go of the edges of the broken wall. gunil gets a second wind. the hearing picks up the charges of a powerful bomb that is already flying into the room. it explodes, shattering the concrete walls like a house of cards. there is no trace of the old comfort. only devastation and small areas covered with fire. she stuns and throws falling asleep pieces from the ceiling. he did not die from the explosion that hit the center of the room. lucky. in an emergency, you need to think fast. it’s time to use this skill. it is difficult to calculate all possible paths, especially when there are few of them. a plan appeared in gunil’s head. unreliable. stupid and naive, but there are no other options.

***

      did it work? it really did. he was able to outwit several large special forces units. it was only worth dressing up in their uniform, playing convincingly and you are already being dragged to patch up as your own. the game was worth the candle. all the risks were justified. a little more and he would see jiseok again, hug him, let himself be kissed, touched, anything, just to feel the presence of this boy in integrity. to fully understand that everything is behind them. there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. there’s no one to hide from, like rats in the night. they will immediately leave the state, the country, the mainland, no matter. the main thing is to escape. the main thing is that jiseok is fine and he is not in danger. there are only a few steps left to the end of the dark tunnel, beyond which there is bright daylight. which is followed by freedom. behind which jiseok is waiting. gunil can already smell the blooming flowers, gasoline. he hears sirens and the restless voices of people who are interested in what happened. the light hurts your eyes a little, but for the sake of a wonderful feeling of victory, you can be patient. a couple more steps and the hopeless situation will be finally resolved. everything will be just fine. he and gaon will live happily on the edge of some quiet city and will not be afraid. a sharp pain pierces the body. it’s not from past injuries. oh no. no. no. no. everything is swimming in eyes. the second bullet tears apart the insides not inferior to the first. it’s hard to breathe. gunil is suffocating. my own blood fills my mouth. painfully. the face touches the cold concrete. the main thing is not to close eyes, even if there is darkness in front of them. impossible. the body does not obey. gunil wants to sleep. there’s a blurry silhouette in front of eyes. he is familiar to gunil. he saw him through the peephole on the day of the murder of the jiseok’s family. goo only killed pawns back then. pawns of this brute who smiles smugly, turning gunil with his back to the ground. he knew that he had made a mistake somewhere, that he had not learned something. now he is paying for a small oversight with his life, his dreams and hopes. it was only now that it hurt to realize that he would never see jiseok again. there really is no way out. he will either be shot completely now, or forced to bleed right before entering a new life. he won’t even be able to crawl. body is numb. it is impossible to breathe. it hurts a lot. but there is one more thing either. gunil will use it to overcome the pain. gunil knew this would happen, he’s calculating everything. he is smiling brightly with the last of his strength. for the last time. he only regrets that he couldn’t give his last smile to jiseok. he would be glad. goo shows his killer a grenade ring. he wants to laugh, cry, scream, but he’s just waiting for the end. the tunnel lights up with a bright flash and a strong rumble shaking the ground around. at least gunil got his revenge.

***

kwak digs dry ground in the park with his hands, away from the commotion and prying eyes. he carefully plants the flower in the ground and covers the roots with the remains of the earth. — you finally cut the roots. jiseok takes one leaf in his palm, bends down and gently kisses it. he doesn’t want to leave. he wants to stay with this plant forever. there is a lot of native, necessary things in it. gunil lied, saying that he would not leave him, but gaon forgave him. he immediately forgave him. he will never get mad at gunil, he will never forget, just like this plant. jiseok would come here every day and talk to him, hoping that goo’s soul had found peace in his essence. — i love you, gunil.